Legend of Ecta Mastrino Box Set 2

by BJ Hanlon

  “We are too,” Dephina said.

  “We have no supplies,” Grent said. He was the only one that didn’t seem as excited. “And we have our son.”

  “I do not know if I’ll make it back alive,” Edin said. “And I doubt I’ll ever come back here.”

  They ignored him. “We go into town. All but Edin,” Dephina said. “We can tie him up like the ginger kid said.” The three stared at him for a few awkward minutes.

  He pleaded with his eyes but none, not even Grent looked away. Finally, Edin nodded.

  Dephina started again. “Okay, we get supplies and meet here at sunrise. Edin, I would probably hide from the Por Fen until then.”

  “Check on Dorset. Get him on the ship to the Isles.”

  “We will,” Berka said. “Even I started to like the little geek.”

  They hopped on their horses and started back through the forest toward Carrow. Edin looked down at the fires still burning below; then he spent a few minutes tending his own. He threw more sticks onto the flames or put some under already burning ones.

  An hour or so later it was fully dark and he heard, “Nice night for fire.” Edin didn’t need to turn to know it was Merik. The justicar, no Inquisitor de Demar, was somewhere in the darkness probably fiddling with a blade and ready to stick him.

  “It is,” Edin said without looking. “How is the army?”

  “We’ve had a few attacks from the south…. It is why I was sent to search for the source.”

  “Rihkar told you of the tunnels.”

  “Yes, but it would be like looking for a single fish in a swarm. A dust mote in a tornado.”

  “We found it.”

  “I’m not sure how. Was it magic? One of your… Gifts.” The way he said it seemed like he was taking a bite from a bitter fruit.

  “No.” He thought for a moment. “A historian at the library knew about it, an old man. Very old.”

  Merik sighed. “That would’ve been a good place to start. I suppose some historian would have learned about them.”

  Merik appeared in the firelight and sat down a few feet to Edin’s right, in the same spot that Grent had occupied a bit earlier. Oddly enough, Edin didn’t feel a wan stone. A moment later, he noticed both of Merik’s hands were in the open, and empty.

  “You’re not hear to assassinate me.” Edin stated and then he paused for a moment. “Or are there more of you in the woods ready to pounce at your direction?”

  “I’m not here to kill you.” They both stared at the fire for a long time and it was a very long time before Merik spoke again. He seemed to be remembering someone. “I have been treated more graciously by magi than I have by men and even my fellow monks.”

  This was the first time they’d ever spoken alone. Something Edin doubted his people would look kindly on.

  “How about Diophin? He didn’t seem like a very good person.”

  Merik snorted. “He was a blotard and a half. I don’t know what happened in that cabin or what came over Ashtol and Feracrucio, but I do not blame either man.”

  Edin was quiet, then said “where is the Prince of Resholt? We could use help.”

  “He has his own issues: the border with Porinstol and the random pockets throughout the state.”

  “My friend discovered a tunnel north of Calerrat.”

  “I know. The Raven showed one of my men the letter you’d sent. The monk was smart enough to let the lad go.”

  “I knew I couldn’t trust her.”

  “The Raven does what she thinks is best for her people. Sometimes her people are that gang, others it is the city.”

  “And now?”

  “She’s like you. Her people are the world.”

  “And yours?”

  “The dematians are a threat to all. I had a magus, a special person once showed me that wasn’t the case with your kind.” Merik shifted uncomfortably as if the words were acidic in his mouth. “Not all of your kind of course and when this is over, if it turns out in our favor, humanity’s favor, we will be at odds again. Despite what I say, the Church will condemn you and the Book of Truth will proclaim you to be evil.”

  Edin stared at the flames. There was a crack and a small burst of red in the yellow glow. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from those people.”

  “Me neither,” Merik said, he pushed himself to his feet and nodded. “The war has started and we could use all the help we can get. The rest of this can be decided after. The enemy of my enemy is my friend sort of thing.”

  “If we live, a war after a war.” Edin sighed. “I really pray that is not the case.” There wasn’t an answer so Edin said, “are you still sending men after me?”

  Merik just smiled and started down the hill toward the burying pyres of dead dematians.

  Edin watched as the leader of the Por Fen disappeared into the darkness. His black cloak making him look like a wraith disappearing into the great beyond.

  Edin remembered the first time he saw him outside of the manor. The evil on his face. The only reason Edin didn’t kill him for taking his mother’s and Kes’s lives was that Merik was not at the manor when it was burnt down. Berka told him that.

  The people that burned it were Edin’s friends. People he grew up with. Edin closed his eyes and listened to the popping trees and the sad rush of wind through them. How many of those people were still alive in Yaultan? Was Yaultan even standing anymore?

  The morning came and he was dying to eat something. The night before he stayed up and watched the soldiers climb the hill and disappear into the forest. The city guards, led by Feldspart, stopped before him and saluted. Edin pushed himself to his feet and did the same back to them.

  “Thank you for believing me,” he said as Feldspart shook his hand.

  “Thank you for saving my men, and my city.”

  “It wasn’t me. It was us.”

  The Por Fen had looked on, a few with admiration and smiles, others with loathing. Merik led them quietly and said nothing nor even looked in Edin’s direction.

  From behind him, he began to hear horses coming up the hill, the hooves pounding the ground. Edin stood and turned and was nearly struck with a large piece of smoked meat thrown his way. He caught it and cradled it in the elbow of his left arm.

  “Ready to ride?” Grent said. “This time we’ve got horses. And I got you another staff as apparently you’re really into that duel wielding now.”

  Edin wanted to thank them but also wanted to protest, to tell them not to come, that it was going to be difficult and probably a death sentence. He wondered if Yechill understood that when they went to the north and if he would’ve declined then.

  One look in each of their eyes told him not to even try to fight it.

  “Yes,” Edin said. He bit into the meat and tore a large chunk from it. For dry and chewy meat, it tasted better than a steak. At least any steak he had today.

  “So where is this place?” Grent said resting his hands on the horse’s neck.

  Edin looked up at the sky and honestly could barely guess. He knew one thing. It was to the west. “I cannot tell you.” Edin said. “Not yet. But I’m taking Jont’s Pass.”

  “Have you been through there? It is mountains, cliffs, and deep gorges on either side,” Dephina said. “It’s a funnel.”

  “Or a death trap,” Berka said.

  Edin looked to the direct west past the remains of the burning dematians and past Falic Mount. More mountains grew there like the rest of the huge forest.

  They looked steep and treacherous, even from here. He saw deep crags and rocky terrain. He thought about that ancient road that lead to Erastio’s Rise and to the hunter. From either he should be able to find the Susot Vale. The sellswords and the Por Fen found a way. They’d even brought carts.

  “It’s our only choice,” Edin said.

  “Let’s get going then, we’re losing daylight,” Grent said.

  “It’s sunrise,” Dephina said as Grent made a tick tick sound and kicked the hors
e and began riding back through the trees and down the slope away from the battlefield.

  They followed the grasslands south, crossed a small bridge over a tiny stream and still within sight of the walls. Edin saw men up there but either they couldn’t see or didn’t care.

  After they’d crossed the small bridge, they reached a road that seemed to head generally in a southwestern direction. They were now south of Carrow and a breeze was coming at them head on. The breeze felt warm but smelled wicked. Like a sharp knife gliding up from the grassy valley they were coming to.

  They continued on through it with forests hugging the road close to the east and north but seeming to open up as they went farther south.

  It was almost a day until Jont’s Pass and the valley and forests opened up into large fields and small hamlets. For leagues, the farms and grasslands popped up on either side and the hamlets, once small tight-knit towns where everyone knew everyone, were empty.

  They crossed into a village and they passed a square, a sheriff’s office and a pub.

  Of all the world he’d seen, small villages like this, when filled with life of course, made him feel most at home. If he lived the rest of his life in a place like this with nothing but farming, herding, or logging, he’d be happy. Edin grinned without knowing it when the thought came to him. But he was missing one integral part, the part that mattered most.

  He closed his eyes and tried to reach out to her, to feel her presence or see through her eyes the way he had in the underground. He wanted, no he needed to see her because despite Suuli’s words, doubt crept in like billowing smoke of an uncontrolled fire. He wondered if the old seer was wrong.

  What if Arianne was gone, dead in some distant cavern or underground lake. What if that river flowed below them right now? It could be deeper than the rivers they’d crossed. Or what if the waterway ran into a deep spring or a lake with rapids that would drown her or break her body against stone?

  As the questions kept rolling through, he was feeling worse. His appetite disappeared and he felt empty inside.

  To the west, the mountains and grassy foothills were silent. There was a large house, two stories at least, on one of the hills. From there, he saw that it was wide at the bottom and growing up almost pyramidal. A stone wall around it covered the entire shape.

  Out of the south side, smoke was blowing high and over their heads from a wide sunbaked brick chimney.

  There was life out here still despite the dematians. With all of the other homes dark and silent, Edin knew life was hanging precariously by a thread.

  “A few miles outside the pass is an inn. The End,” Grent said ominously. “It may be deserted, but I’d rather sleep in a bed before we begin that journey. In my old age, sleeping on hard stone is not my idea of fun.”

  “Growing soft I see,” Berka said. “Do you want a warm bath with a bottle of wine?”

  Edin was barely paying attention but heard the last part. “That sounds nice.”

  Dephina and Berka spurt out laughter and soon Grent did too. “It’s good you finally joined us,” Grent said. “We didn’t know where you were for the past few hours.”

  Edin raised an eyebrow and then realized what the warrior meant. “In my own head again. Nothing unusual.”

  “No, it isn’t. I hoped you’d have grown out of it though.”

  “Not yet,” he said and offered a half smile. Even he knew it looked fake.

  A smell began to come over him. The road was flat and the wind swirled and he didn’t know which way it was coming from, but he picked up the odor. It smelled rotten and woody and awful with just a hint of showers coming.

  Edin peered into the east and saw something sparkling nearly a quarter mile away in a patch of dead grass. It stuck up like a sign that told of a location or a gravestone. “What’s that?” Edin asked.

  Grent stopped and the rest did after him. A moment later he said, “A ring, on a hand.”

  Gravestone was right, Edin thought.

  Dephina said, “Should we check if anyone is alive?”

  “No,” Grent said. His voice was calm and easy like they were chatting about the weather. “You can smell it, can’t you? Everything over there is dead and I’m guessing they didn’t go in their sleep.”

  “Dematians?” Berka said. He didn’t sound scared of them anymore.

  “If it were bandits, I don’t think they’d have left the ring. There could be others still roaming the lands looking for wayward travelers.”

  That got Edin’s hackles up. Luckily, the valley had turned into a more or less flat land with the exception of the mountains and foothills before them, though those were a thousand yards or more away still. That meant they could see an attack coming.

  They traveled for another few hours, trudging up the dirt road and getting wafts of death mixed with the warm smell of a late winter.

  The group reached the inn a bit before sunset. They’d made decent time and though the horses were big and meant for quick sprints, not long trots, they traveled well.

  “Battle steeds,” Grent said, “possibly from the plains south of Frestils or north of Calerrat. Both were known for their husbandry.”

  Berka looked large on his, Grent looked average and Dephina… well she looked small, but she rode it like she’d known the animal her entire life.

  They stopped at the inn and when no one came to greet them, they led the horses to the stables. There was a sign on the door written in a quick, scribbling hand that said, ‘closed.’ No reason given, but it didn’t need one.

  Dephina was on the ground and pulled out her lock picks. In a moment, the wide door was open and she was leading her horse in. They all followed.

  They found oats and a trough for the beasts, and took off the saddles, bridles, and gear. “Lock it after us,” Grent said. “I don’t want our mounts to become dematian food.”

  Edin stepped outside and scanned the few homes around and the rolling hills, plains, and mountains. There was no one, no movement even from other animals. It felt like they were the only living beings left in the world, as if some mysterious force simply took everyone away.

  Then they were at the inn door. Edin reached it first. It too was locked.

  Dephina started. “When will any of you learn—”

  “I got it,” Edin interrupted and reached in his pockets.

  “You learned to pick?”

  “A kid taught me but,” he took the thing Yassima gave him and slid it in. He wiggled it and turned the knob and it popped open quicker than Dephina’s picks.

  Dephina seized his hand and brought it to her face. “Is that magic? Some sort of spell or something?”

  “It’s something,” Edin said. “But I don’t think it’s magic.” He flipped it around in his hand and gave it to her. “If it’s alright with you, I think we should raid the pantry and the ale stores.” Edin took a few steps in.

  The place was dark and the windows were boarded up though bits of the red-orange late evening sunlight pierced the slats of wood. Edin summoned an ethereal light.

  “We don’t have the money to pay for what we take,” Grent said passing Edin and making his way to an oil candle a few feet to the right. Grent brought out a sparkstone and looked to Edin.

  “We’re on a life-and-death mission,” Edin said. He looked back toward the inn. It was wood from the floor to the ceiling. Some tables were flipped up and pushed against windows like barricades. The chairs were stacked together or flipped on top of other tables in a sort of last-stand meets end of night clean-up decor. The mounted heads of a boar, goat, deer, and crillio hung on the wall. Edin had no feeling when he saw that forest monster. He pondered if crillio were the dogs of the dematians.

  It would make sense.

  The oil lamp flickered as Berka stepped forward. “I’ll write a note, I’m sure the duke will reimburse the owners for what we need. We did just end one of the most pressing threats to his land.”

  Grent began walking around and lighting the rest of
the candles while Dephina slipped behind the bar and then into a dark doorway beyond.

  “Well, if you don’t want to you can sleep outside and leave the nice beds alone. Edin said.

  A moment later, Dephina reappeared. The Mireshka assassin was grinning back at them from the black portal. She must’ve liked the idea. “We haven’t been without little Horst in a while.” She winked at Grent, “we don’t get a lot of alone time in the big city.”

  “Good night,” Grent said and took Dephina’s hand disappearing up the stairs

  “He’s changed a bit,” Edin said.

  Berka shrugged, “I’m hungry,” then he disappeared back into what Edin guessed was a kitchen.

  Behind the bar, he found a half-full barrel of ale. Edin poured a mug and drank. With the barrels being on the first floor, the ale was room temperature and a bit too bitter. It’d do the job though. He brought it over to the table and sat.

  A few minutes later Berka reappeared with bread and cheese. He set it on the table and grabbed his own mug of ale.

  They ate and drank quietly for a few minutes. Then came loud thumping from upstairs. Literally right above Edin’s head. It took a few seconds before he realized what it was. “Eww,” he groaned in concert with Berka. Berka stood, picked up his chair and started pounding it into the ceiling.

  “Get a different room!” Edin yelled upstairs. “In the corner somewhere.”

  “Oh, go grow a pair you little blo—” Dephina started but Grent cut her off.

  “Sorry,” the formerly stoic warrior bellowed down.

  Edin and Berka chuckled. “If El were here I’d be doing the same,” Berka said.

  That brought Arianne back to his mind. Edin’s grin faded and he dropped his eyes to the table.

  “I’m sorry,” Berka said. “We’ve just—, when I’m with her we can’t keep our hands off each other. You know what I mean.”

  Edin didn’t look up but he did know. Or at least he’d had the desire to.

  “I’m sorry,” Berka said. “If what Suuli said, her being held and all, it means she’s alive. The gods wouldn’t have let her sleep for a thousand years only to wake her and let her die before she lived another one… right?”